


Amaryllis [or: how to insult your boss in the kindest, most unsuspected way]

by Hximweh



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anthony Janthony Crowley is the worst at flirting, Aziraphale is a costumer in his shop, Aziraphale is a lawful gay, Crowley is a chaotic gay, Crowley is a florist, First Meeting, Fluff, Gabriel is mentioned, God knows, Language of Flowers, Lots of flowers, M/M, They meet, Translation, btw they're both humans in this, florist!AU, he doesn't appear but he's pretty important tbh, i imagine crowley having long hair in this but you do you, incredibly it doesn't take Aziraphale 6000 years to take a hint, kind of flirting, perhaps they'll meet again, they flirt, they're gay disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 03:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hximweh/pseuds/Hximweh
Summary: [ENG][Florist!AU]And yet the request he heard from the man who had been nervously wandering among the plants for some minutes, as if he was unsure about what to do, and who then, in a sudden impetus of bravery, had slammed some banknotes on the counter before he even uttered a single word, well, that request for sure would have easily surpassed everything he ever heard before.-How do I say “fuck you” using flowers?-...or: Crowley is a florist, Aziraphale is a complicated costumer, and both of them end up being affected by that ineffable entity known as "love at first sight"





	Amaryllis [or: how to insult your boss in the kindest, most unsuspected way]

**Author's Note:**

> As specified in the tags, this story is a translation of a fanfiction of mine i originally wrote in italian. English is not my first language, and even thought i tried my best to translate it from italian i'm aware there might be errors.  
> I know my English is kind of limited, but i wanted to improve myself in something different.  
> If you notice any mistakes, please let me know, so i'll be able to correct. Enjoy

The day appeared to be the most normal one possible.  
He had entered in the shop and had sat on the folding chair placed behind the counter, waiting for the opening time and drinking a couple of cups of that vaguely caffeine-flavored mush that the bar next door kept giving him (to be honest, he had no idea why he persisted in coming back there. Fact is that every morning he left the cafeteria with at least two little plastic cups full of the watered-down coffee that the bar owner stubbornly kept calling “espresso”).  
Then, he had opened the flower shop's door, waiting for some potential costumers.  
Crowley could say he had seen many things, since he had opened that little florist store.  
And yet the request he heard from the man who had been nervously wandering among the plants for some minutes, as if he was unsure about what to do, and who then, in a sudden impetus of bravery, had slammed some banknotes on the counter before he even uttered a single word, well, that request for sure would have easily surpassed everything he ever heard before.

-How do I say “fuck you” using flowers?-

Crowley looked at him, rather amused. He would've expected literally everything but this. He definitely would've never expected someone dressed with a tie and a coat in the middle of spring, someone who, as he spoke those words, seemed to be regretting every decision he ever made in his life, to ask him something like that.  
-Sorry if I dare to ask you, but wouldn't it be easier to just tell him?- he asked.  
The man stared at him, a little irritated.  
-Don't you think that, if I was in the position to directly say something like this to this person, I would be everywhere but here?-  
-That's right- Crowley conceded, adjusting the dark glasses he was wearing. So he wants to be a good person at all costs, uh? He observed.  
-Let's see what can I do for you-  
Ho got up from his chair and moved, followed by his costumer, among the vases piled against each other on the entire surface of the shop.  
Once he had observed the plants, under the curios eyes of the other man he cut some of the flowers and, taking what he needed, he started working on the boquet.  
-So...you'll need geraniums, which mean “stupidity”, yellow carnations, to say “you have disappointed me”, orange lilies, which indicate hostility, peonies, which are notoriously the most passive-aggressive flowers to ever exist, and finally some meadowsweet, just to let the lucky receiver know that they're a completely useless being. Sounds sufficiently full of hatred and resentment to you?-  
He ended the explanation with a sharp smile, sort of an irony in his voice.  
The client gazed at the flowers, then at Crowley, then again at the flowers, and he nodded in satisfaction.  
-I think this is perfect- he said.  
The redhead wrapped the flowers in white paper, holding the stems together with a showy red bow. In the meanwhile, the man was watching him work, rubbing his hands on his trousers' fabric.  
He appeared to be kind of anxious, Crowley noticed, and he probably was. The more he observed him, the more he realized he was right: there was no way that man was the kind of guy who could openly insult someone, instead, he was terrified at the very idea. That would've explained the weird method. More discreet than a simple “fuck off”, safer than a threat, definitely more legal than any display of hatred that Crowley himself had ever designed or implemented.  
-Would you like to add a note?- he asked, drawing the other from his distraction.  
-Yes, please...just write “Aziraphale” on it, thank you-  
Crowley retrieved what he needed, his expression turning in absolute disgust at the sight of those terribly colored and shaped papers that his neighbor, Madame Tracy, insisted on giving him ever since she heard about his shop. He ended up choosing one in the shape of a dolphin, all in all the most decent one. He added the note between the branches and handed the boquet to his costumer -Aziraphale, he remembered.  
-Here it is. It's twenty two pounds-  
-How did you know it?-  
The man stared at the one who had just asked him the question, a little displaced.  
-I mean...how did you know the meaning of all those flowers? I don't think it's such an usual thing-  
-It is not, in fact- the florist confirmed. To be honest, he liked how Aziraphale was interested. It was not a subject that caught the attention of many.  
-To answer your question, I did nothing more than study about it. Or take note from past experiences-  
-I understand- murmured Aziraphale.  
-It must be useful, considering your job-  
Crowley shook his head.  
-No, actually you're the first person to ever ask me something like this-  
Aziraphale addressed a slightly embarrassed smile to him.  
-Oh, I didn't think...well, I'm honored to be the first, then-  
The other man laughed.  
(Aziraphale couldn't help but noticing how beautiful his laughter was).  
-Tell me- he started, slowly taking off the glasses he had almost forgot to be wearing. -Who's the object of so much hate?-  
-My boss, Gabriel...you should see what kind of person. Respectable, don't get me wrong but so terribly full of himself-  
There was something, Crowley noticed, some sudden change in the way they were talking to each other, something he didn't know how to explain but felt definitely different. He found it nice, almost intimate.  
-But, I mean, I can't just go and insult him, can I? So I figured this could be a good alternative. You have no idea how many flower shops I had to go to before finding someone who doesn't think I'm crazy...-  
-And you find me- ended the ginger, kind of delighted.  
-Nice idea, y'know. If you want, I might be willing to do the dirty job and go insult this Gabriel on your behalf-  
Aziraphale giggled, but, as he realized what he had just heard, he suddenly stopped and whispered an “absolutely no”, as if he were worried that this cold actually happen.  
Perhaps his concern was understandable.  
Crowley just winked at him.  
-My offer's always open- he simply said, staring at the other with a peaceful smile. He was close, close enough to let him notice all the details he could've never see at a regular distance. He had little expression wrinkles at the sides of his mouth, memories, maps of past smiles, and his eyes were blue, as big as a child's, framed by thin dark circles. Crowley found himself trying to guess the reason for it, imagining him awake at late night, bent on some book, his eyes fixed on the black printed letters. He wondered if Aziraphale actually liked reading books, or if it was just some strange fantasy his mind had originated.  
Before he could even realize it, he found himself mumbling “do you want to borrow one of my books about the language of flowers?”.  
Fuck. He cursed himself, each of his plants and his whole bloodline. Really, what kind of sentence was that? What the Hell it was, if not the most terrible, disgusting, cloying representation a flirting attempt that was destined to fail miserably?  
But Aziraphale looked at him with sort of a brightness in his eyes. He seemed glad, surprised by the offer, but happy, really happy.  
-I would love to, dear-  
Without saying anything else, the other man went on the back of the shop to get one of the volumes he talked about.  
It was only a moment, a flash of color, but his gaze fell on one of the flowers.  
Screw it, he reasoned, I can't do worse than this, can I?

***

Aziraphale accepted the little book Crowley was handing him. It took him a few seconds to register the presence of a single bright red flowers, tied around the book with a string.  
He stared at the florist questioningly.  
-It's an amaryllis- he merely explained.  
-Won't you tell me what it's meaning is?- he blond asked, as if to challenge him.  
The other nodded at the small encyclopedia he had given him.  
-Find it out by yourself-

***

He placed the boquet of flowers on the kitchen table, being careful not to ruin it. He couldn't wait to give it to Gabriel: he knew, of course, the he probably wasn't going to understand the real meaning behind that action, but it was fine. It would've been a silent revenge, but he still could have taken a little payback.  
His gaze focused on Crowley's book, and on the flower resting on it.  
Amaryllis.  
Gently, he untied the knot that held the two objects together.  
He touched the flower's leaves, traced his finger along the stem and, barely understanding why, he placed a light kiss on the scarlet petals.  
He opened the encyclopedia index, he found the name he was looking for.  
Amaryllis, shy affection.  
His lips curved softly, and the slightest smiles bloomed on his face.

***

He heard the door opening, and the rhythmic sound of steps on the floor, getting closer and closer to the counter.  
As Crowley turned around he saw him there, looking at him with in the eyes the same light he had been looking for everywhere, every time.  
-How do I say “I keep thinking about you constantly, would you go out with me?” using flowers?-

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to write something decent for a while, but i just can't. Even thought i have many intresting ideas, lately i've been only able to write cheesy stuff like this. Am i ashamed of myself? definitely. Will i stop? probably not.  
> this story is way different from the kind of things i usually like to write [i'm more of an angst person, y'know] but oh well.  
> this fic is inspired by a writing prompt i found on tumblr, whose subject was, in fact, "how do i passive-aggresively say fuck you in flower?".  
> Well, i love good omens, i love the language of flowers, and here we are.  
> i'm even thinking of turning this into a series, honestly.  
> about the amaryllis: in the informations i found it is described as a flower that shows the starting of a romantic feeling. the right flower to tell someone you are starting to crush on them.  
> i hope you like the story. forgive me for all the fluff.  
> E.


End file.
